


Morning

by ColinFilth



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Morning Sex, Mornings, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 03:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11981652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColinFilth/pseuds/ColinFilth
Summary: We have named you morning to keep a record of those stolen seconds when our eyes are thieves for the treasures of his secret body.





	Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Port_wind_sea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Port_wind_sea/gifts).



> One morning in early June, I woke up too early, rolled over, and started writing the following into 29 text messages to the very lovely and patient Port.
> 
> On [Tumblr](http://sircolinfilth.tumblr.com), on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/callmealois). Apropos of the times, there might be TGC spoilers on both.

Morning.

You laying all lovely and shy on him, we have named you morning.

The quiet curl of your fingers in his hair, so pale, your bare breath on his unshaven cheek.

We have named you morning to keep a record of those stolen seconds when our eyes are thieves for the treasures of his secret body.

We have named you morning to give an excuse for the hoarse whisper I confess to his sleeping body.

For the stir in him, the way your fingers push every hair on his body to stand on end.

It is no lie, morning. I have checked.

You are a cold one. If I pull the sheets off his body, he curls and moans softly like a displeased child.

So I do.

Morning doesn't blame us.

When I gather him into my arms you push my hands into his hair, tip my wrists to cradle his mouth up to mine.

We have named you morning for the way his dreams taste on his lips, for the way he recoils and bites my lip, the way your palms softly coax his neck into view.

For your light does not reach the teasing sinking of my teeth into his tender skin.

Morning fogs up his moans.

The chill pushes his hands under my clothes, first my belly and my back, then my arse and my cock. His hands are cold; he laughs when I startle.

Morning lays pale and cold on my thighs but inviting on his hair. His mouth is soft, impossibly hot in comparison. Nothing can compare.

I love him, morning.

When I tell him he hums and keeps sucking, but twists around to grab his cock. I think. Sometimes he just cradles his bollocks, teasing himself. Evening sheds such a different light on him.

I want to know.

Morning helps me gather him up and taste my cock off his mouth while he pushes his groin to mine. I love him, morning.

He's touching his bollocks, teasing around his arse. You know, morning, you know all the secrets—you know he’ll just tease, clench around nothing and think about it, he gets off to the idea of it more than to the real thing.

I get off to him.

Morning paints him so pale, so soft, breathing with heavy-lidded eyes in my arms, clumsily moving his sleepy, uncoordinated body against mine.

I love him, morning.

When I tell him this time he smiles and looks up at me. He kisses me so gently, so quietly everything seems to stop.

I think I come then. Just this little kiss. A morning peck, really.

His cock is lovely and red against my belly, his thighs strong against my cock. I think about thrusting between them. I kiss his neck.

I hide from you, morning.

You know all the secrets.

He wanks himself off right against me—I can feel the motion of his fist, the tenseness of his muscles, the way he jerks, the silent moans that stick to the raw insides of him.

He lays over me and you over his back pale and warmer now, morning.

Warmer just in time to blanket us in light when he rolls over next to me and breathes, lazy and sated. I love him, morning.

I love him at all times.

But there's no need to tell you this, morning.

We named you morning for the way he loves me back.


End file.
